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Posts Tagged ‘AI: S9 Auditions’

OH GOD. ONE MORE WEEK. Let’s just do this. I’m having so much trouble finding the energy to care.
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My posts are late because real life sucked this week. But nothing could suck as hard as the American Idol auditions in LA did. Not even Courtney Love.
Los Angeles. The city of the famewhore. The hooker of America. Where clouds of desperation so thick hang over the city, the government had to tell everyone it was smog. Where everyone is too busy circle jerking to notice everyone else thinks they’re morons. Sure, there are people there that aren’t the social equivalent of a guy who takes polaroids of dick and hands them out at the grocery store. I just don’t know how they stop themselves from walking in front of a bus every morning. With all of the attention whoring people desperate to famous out there, I’m shocked at the level of mediocre talent we were shown on television.
Let’s just get to it. The sooner we do it, the sooner it’ll be over. (more…)

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I really thought I couldn’t get more jaded, and then I started writing these little intros. I feel like an fifty year old woman on her ninth marriage. After about the fourth one, you’re just looking for someone you don’t want to murder in their sleep. By the ninth one, you’re just sitting in your underwear with a bucket of chicken on your stomach, waiting for someone to accidentally flash a boob or something. There’s no magic left, only cheap, fleeting thrills.

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I’d like to remind everyone that we have to sit through two more weeks of this shit. If you didn’t just slit your own wrists, I admire your tenacity. I mean, who doesn’t loathe sitting through an hour filled with mockery delivered with all the wit of a first grader coupled with more pathetic delusion than a room full of people that still find Oprah relevant? I feel like people that enjoy these episodes are the same people that watch Jay Leno, even though his mouth is where jokes go to commit suicide. These are the people that still say “You go, girl!” and then say it again louder when you pretend you can’t hear them. They can’t even recognize an act of mercy when it’s right in front of their faces. So Simon Cowell is the absolute pinnacle of wit. Do we feel sorry for them, or do we curse them for making us suffer through American Idol audition episodes? I’m not even sure anymore.

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When watching the idol auditions in Atlanta, one can’t help but lament they’re stuck here inside with four hacks and a slew of desperate famewhores instead of at the Coke Museum, or in Ted Turner’s house kicking him in the balls for giving us WCW. It’s kind of like detention on the first day of spring. I’m imagining most of us got stuck here for looking at too much internet porn or smoking pot in the bathroom. If you want to advance to the Hollywood rounds, you’re going to have to prove you can be responsible and not get caught next time, okay? Well, thanks to a 62 year old man and his magical song, it all ends up kind of like the Breakfast Club in the end, anyway. I’ve already decided I’m the Judd Nelson in this scenario, so you’re going to have to pick someone else.

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I’d say, “It’s that time of year again,” but I’m going to choose to believe if you’ve got a computer, you already know that information. If this isn’t your first time at this pony show, this part is like sticking a needle in your eye and leaving it there for four weeks. These episodes were never intended for you, anyway. These episodes are an attempt to lure the spoon-fed masses in with mockery in the hopes one of the depressing sob stories will tug at their heartstrings just enough for them to stick around. Then they can sell more Coke and AT&T and Ryan Seacrest can lure more people to his radio show, where he infects us all with music that makes our souls die, so our hollow shells just consume more Coke and more AT&T. We know it and we don’t fucking care because we love this show anyway, even if it’s just a stupid little contest they do to fill up time between ad space. One day, they’re going to figure a way around it, I think. Let’s enjoy it while we can.

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